


Crossroads

by AkiraMokona



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiraMokona/pseuds/AkiraMokona
Summary: You were unmarried, intelligent, and adored cats. As a result, many thought that you were a witch. The very idea was preposterous. You hadn't even made a deal with a demon.Unfortunately, a certain demon was determined to make a deal with you.Sebastian x Reader
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis & Reader, Sebastian Michaelis/Reader, Sebastian Michaelis/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 92





	1. The Lady

_She told me that she loved me_

_**What a foolish thing to say** _

The cobblestone streets were rather empty, considering the time of day. It seemed that most were worried about the storm looming in the distance. The dark clouds were expected to bring horrid rain and thunder. Despite the weather being relatively pleasant, most refused to be caught in the middle of the storm.

The clicking of shoes against the ground cut through the white noise of the day. Faint, cold winds caused others to grip their hats and brace themselves in an attempt to keep their composure. Doors and window shutters rattled against their frames. But the ground remained dry. There was still time. Work needed to be done.

You approached the door of one of the many houses stacked haphazardly along the road, knocking on the wood. There was no need for pretentious formality. You were working for the common people, not some snobbish nobility that would make you wait in some room and get upset with you should you glance at your pocket watch. Excessive rules and etiquette were an annoyance. You preferred to do business in as a little time as possible.

The door opened after a few moments. A women in faded colours leaned into view. Her skirt was coated in mud and soot, layered upon each other. Her appearance was not high on her list of priorities, it seemed. But you didn’t care. From what you had heard, she had more important things to worry about.

“What is it?” She eyed you suspiciously, “What do you want?”

“I’ve heard that your son is sick.”

The woman’s glare hardened, “Really? So what? Have you come here to gloat?”

“No,” Your hand moved to the small bag you carried, slipping into one of the many compartments and withdrawing a vial of blue liquid. You held it out to the woman, “I have come to help.”

But your show of kindness only brought forth more distrust from the woman, “What is that?”

“It will help your son,” You explained.

“I don’t want it!” The woman shrieked, her grip tightening on the door handle, “I’ve heard about people like you. You offer solutions, but at a price. That thing might cure my son, but he will fall out of favour with a higher power! It will sentence him to damnation!”

You paused, “Ah, no, that’s not how it works. It’s a mixture of some herbs that will help your son to-“

“You’ve come to take my son’s soul! You’re acting sweet now, but a lady like you should not do such things!” Her free hand moved to her hip, “Really, you shouldn’t be out here. You should be off attending some rich and fancy parties or having some young man woo you into marriage. But this? Peddling some dark magic? Ha! You don’t fool-“

“Ma’am,” Your expression became stern, “Your son will die without my help. I promise you, the contents of this bottle will not kill him or damn him. If you use it, he will live. If you leave him like this, he will only suffer.”

“He will get better! Such insolence! I should report you! Leave, demon!” With that, the woman slammed the door shut. You could hear her muttering behind the wood. The soft wailing of her son called her away from the door.

“A demon?” Your brow arched, unimpressed, “I don’t think I’ve been called that before. Oh well,” A ribbon and a small paper tag were withdrawn from your bag. You tied them both around the neck of the vial. You looked over the black ink scrawled across the paper.

Five drops into a cup of water, drink it all. Continue daily until completely well.

You leaned over, setting the vial down in a safe place by the door. It didn’t matter that the woman had refused your offer. It was a courtesy call. It worked well for your business. Giving them a taste of what your work could do always brought them back for more. Only then would you begin charging them for your services.

The woman was determined now, but more time and more of her son’s anguish would bring her to question her decision. She would leave her home in search of you, only to find the bottle. She would use it, either then or after a bit more time. And her son would get better. There were no tricks to your game.

A quiet mewl to your left caused you to straighten, looking around for the source of the noise. It was a small cat, its fur matted with dirt.

“Hello,” You greeted the creature, smiling a bit as it scampered up to you, “Are you alright?”

Another meow. It began pawing at your skirt.

Your hand disappeared into your bag, “I have just the thing for you,” You withdrew a small box, lifting the lid and taking out a bit of its contents. You reached out, offering the substance on your fingertips.

The kitten moved closer, sniffing before opening its mouth and dragging its rough tongue over your skin. Upon the first taste, it immediately ate the rest.

“Good to see you like fish,” You smiled, righting yourself and putting away the box. You looked to the sky. The storm was edging closer. You would have to start your journey home.

The cat made another noise, wanting more food.

You turned a bit and stepped away from the cat, looking at it over your shoulder.

It followed, nudging the hem of your skirt.

“Alright, come on, then,” You grinned, continuing to walk along the street. Looking away, you could still hear the tiny pattering of the cat hurrying behind you. You kept your pace rather slow. The creature seemed quite hungry. Even if someone owned the little thing, it wasn’t being treated well. If it followed you all the way home, you would give it a proper life.

You passed by another street, stopping when you noticed a few more people still wandering the town despite the oncoming rain. The closest was a boy who seemed quite well off. He scowled, looking away, “Not again. You don’t need to do this every time.”

Your attention shifted to the boy’s companion, a man dressed in dark, crisp fabrics. He was kneeling down, holding something in his hands.

Another cat.

“How cute,” He cooed, “Such wide eyes. Your fur is so soft, and those paws. How adorable.”

You covered your mouth and averted your gaze, trying not to laugh. It wasn’t often that you saw someone so overcome with a love for felines, especially a man with such a sophisticated demeanor. You turned, deciding to keep moving. The storm would be coming soon.

“You’re not allowed to keep it,” You could hear the boy say, “I’m allergic.”

“Of course, young master, I’m merely taking a moment to-“

You heard another meow, different from the cat that had been following you. A pressure on your leg caused you to look down, seeing the cat that the man had been holding before. It rubbed its face against your skirt, then looked up and mewled again. You sighed a bit, amused. It has smelled the fish and had left the man in search of the food, “Here,” You took out the box once more, offering the cat some of its contents.

Once your fingers were cleaned of the fish, you straightened, only to jump slightly. The man in dark clothes was standing next to you. Your shoes made so much noise against the cobblestones, and yet he had been soundless when approaching you.

His hand moved to his chest, “Forgive me, it’s not often that I see cats in town like this.”

“Oh, there’s no need for an apology,” You waved him off, noticing that the boy was looking quite aggravated, “I believe that your young master is waiting for you,” You curtsied slightly, “Good afternoon.”

“Yes, of course. Good day,” He bowed, his attention once more on the cats.

You began to head home, the creatures still following you with the hope of getting more food. It was amusing to see someone lose their composure over something so small and fragile. However, as you walked away, you felt the man’s gaze shift onto you. Despite being intangible, it felt like he was burning a hole through your back.

Perhaps he was annoyed by your quick farewell. He was polite. By the rules of the nobility, you had been rude. You sighed, frustrated by such trivialities. Maybe he was jealous that you could keep such pets without having a master to refuse their presence. Either way, it seemed you had struck a chord with him.

It didn’t matter. You were used to having an odd reputation. Feeding stray cats was the least of most people’s worries concerning you. Walking around town wearing moderately elegant clothes without any guards or escorts to accompany you, offering mysterious concoctions to those suffering from illness and other misfortune. Those were not the actions of any normal woman. That woman had threatened to report you. She had called you a demon, but that was not what most people called you.

Witch.

It seemed that fear still plagued the world. They were all so frightened of things that they couldn’t explain, of things they had not been raised to believe. The unknown, the new. It terrified them. They burned the innocent in an attempt to find the guilty, although you were unsure that such a thing even existed. No. To you, there were only things that could be explained through science. Everything else was merely on its way to such an explanation. Discovery and understanding would come eventually. All things could be explained.

Various people had threatened to report you or drown you themselves to see whether or not you were working for some darker power, but none of them had done so yet. They had all caved to their own situations. Their illness became too painful, their anguish unbearable. They would use your potions and ointments, and they would work. No matter their view of the occult or general religion, they knew that you had done them a service. They could not come after you with a clear conscience. Instead, they often sought your help again.  
  
The life of an apothecary knew no rest, it seemed.

“Let’s go, Sebastian,” Ciel turned, wanting nothing more than to go back home. His allergies were acting up, even though he had been nowhere near the cats. However, when he didn’t hear the sound of his butler following him, he stopped, glaring at the man.

He was still staring down the street, even though the woman was gone.

“You’re not allowed to bring any cats home. I forbid it.”

Sebastian finally turned away, instead looking to Ciel with a smile, “Worry not, young master. That was not my concern.”

It was a bit of a lie. The butler was always tempted by the idea of sneaking a few cats into the manor, but the boy’s words were his law.

Still, an adorable creature had crossed his path.

One that his young master wasn’t allergic to.


	2. The Desperation

_The snow falls, the wind screams, and the storm rages_

_**Yet, in my sad heart, the tempest is the worst to behold** _

You sighed, wiping the sweat from your brow. Still, you had to be careful not to get any of the material on your hands into your eyes. Preparing ingredients for proper storage was always dangerous. Rushing through it would likely result in spillage, and such strong concentrations of the chemicals would undoubtedly damage you in some way. You bottled the substance, then moved to wash your hands in the sink. Most apothecaries had assistants who would do all of the dangerous labour, saving the fame and glory for those with the actual credentials. But you knew that your status would never reach that level, especially when of the people you tried to help branded you a witch at first.

A scratching noise at the door brought a faint smile to your lips. You glanced over, seeing some small paws reaching underneath and trying to get inside of the room. Letting the cats that came through your house enter your workshop would undoubtedly allow them to get into mischief. Knocking over bottles and trying to eat the concoctions inside would result in several sick creatures. You refused to let such a thing happen, though you felt a bit guilty as they mewled for your attention. Though, from your experience, some of them only made noise to get food.

You opened the door, making sure that none of the creatures snuck past before shutting the door behind you. You dried your hands on the apron you wore, then pulled your sleeves back down. It had been a few days since you had given that woman the potion for her son. The temptation to check on the house and see if she had taken the potion from the front step tugged at your mind, but you had more work to do. You placed your hands on your hips, huffing a bit. Your work was never done.

A faint knock drew you out of your reverie. You made your way to the front door of your home and shop to answer it, “Yes?”

You couldn’t tell if the man before you was a general postman or a private messenger, “Are you Miss _____?”

“I am,” You noticed the way he glanced around. Given the size of your house and the sign stating that the establishment also served as an apothecary, you knew that he was expecting some sort of servant to answer. Or maybe he had expected you to be married, and the apothecary was run by your husband, “What there something you needed?”

“I have a message for you,” He reached into his suit jacket. A private messenger, then. Postmen always brought a bag with them; if they kept their letters in their jacket, they would be dropping envelopes everywhere, “From the Earl Ciel Phantomhive.”

“Phantomhive?” You took the letter, flipping it over to look at the family crest. You had never been contacted by such a family. The name was familiar, but you couldn’t place it. The only people that ever wrote to you were the heads of pharmaceutical companies, usually in attempt to shut down your practice. You acted on your own rather than beneath some corporation. Given the efficiency of your potions and ointments in comparison to other concoctions, some were threatened by your presence. Others wanted you to endorse their products, attaching your name to one of their medications. But you always refused. You wouldn’t put your name on anything unless you made it yourself. But the Phantomhive name was one that you didn’t recognize. Therefore, it was not related to medication, “Are you sure? Could there have been some sort of mistake?”

“No, Miss,” The man fixed his hat, “I was told to give this to a Miss _____ at this address, and you fit the description. You’re the intended recipient of this message.”

“…Could you wait out here for a moment?”

“Of course.”

You carefully shut the door, breaking the wax seal on the envelope. You weren’t keen on letting people into your home unless they were a client. Otherwise, you were too concerned about them trying to sneak into your workshop and stealing something from you, whether it was a specific bottle or a recipe. The paper was thick. Expensive. The faint smell of some sort of perfume seeped from the page. The Phantomhives were clearly of a higher class.

You read the letter. It was a request that you visit the Phantomhive Manor for a consult. The exact nature of the consult wasn’t clear. The letter seemed to allude to the fact that the matter at hand had to deal with some activities that were best left out of writing. Whatever it was, your expertise in medicine was needed.

A sigh escaped you. Such a thing made you nervous. There were too many possibilities. While there was the chance that it could be exactly like what the letter described, it could also be a complete lie. The letter could be from one of the pharmaceutical companies, trying to get you involved in some scheme in order to ruin your reputation. You worried that it was some investigators from Scotland Yard. You knew that narcotics were continually brought into London; you had helped treat several people who were suffering from taking too much of the substances. Perhaps they wanted to see if you were part of the trafficking ring, despite having no ties to the docks. Still, your word was not as strong as theirs, should anything happen.

You opened the door again, thankful that the man was still standing there, “Could you tell me something?”

“I’ll try my best.”

“This Ciel Phantomhive,” You began, “Who is he?”

“He’s but a boy. His family died several years ago, so he inherited the family toy company.”

“A toy company?” Your brow furrowed. It didn’t make sense. What purpose did a toy mogul have in consulting an apothecary? “I see.”

“And your response to the letter?”

“I can go,” You noticed that he shifted slightly, “Is there a problem?”

“I’ve been requested to escort you there, Miss,” He gestured to the carriage on the street behind him, “I can give you some time, if you need it to prepare.”

“No,” You waved him off, “That isn’t necessary. I can leave now. Just let me grab my things,” You stepped away from the door. Your bag was slung over the side of your favourite chair. As you moved the bag, you noticed a bundle of fur curled up on the cushion. The bundle shifted, looking up at you with vibrant, wide eyes. It was the first stray cat you had ever fed. It had been years, but the cat had happily followed you home and remained there. She became quite domesticated, pretending that she was in charge of the house instead of you. You scratched behind her ears, “Are you comfortable, Nepeta?”

The cat made a small noise in response.

You mimicked the noise, snickering, “See you later, then.”

You returned to the door, quickly snatching up your keys, “Alright, we can go now,” You locked the door, walking past the man working as both postman and footman. The look on his face told you that he had heard you talking to the cat. Such behaviour was abnormal, but you saw no harm in it. He was undoubtedly adding up the tally marks in his head, drifting closer and closer to thinking that you were up to something. You ignored it. It didn’t matter if he thought you were a witch or some monster masquerading as a woman.

The journey was longer than you imagined it would be. As the buildings fell away to forest and shrubbery, you realized that the Phantomhive Manor was on the outskirts of town. Your lack of travel resulted in your rarely venturing outside of the city limits. All of the mansions and large houses you had seen were mere glimpses through iron gates, the actual buildings so far away that you couldn’t see what was in the windows. But as the carriage moved further along the path, the trees moved away to reveal a massive building in the distance.

You leaned closer to the window, gazing up in awe at the estate. You couldn’t imagine the amount of work it took to keep so many rooms and hallways in top condition. The staff were likely without rest for most of the day. You sighed. The idea of meeting with such an influential person, despite being young, made you nervous.

The carriage slowed, pulling up to the front staircase. The man jumped down from the driver’s bench. You shifted toward the door, ready to get up once the door was opened. You weren’t used to being waited on like this. In most situations, you opened your own doors. But you needed to be careful now. Offending someone that could be accusing you of smuggling narcotics was not the best idea. You had to give the impression that you were a completely respectable apothecary. You were, there was no denying that from your perspective, but any disregard for noble etiquette could easily be twisted into a distaste for the queen, adding to your imaginary transgressions. You huffed, annoyed with yourself. Nothing good came out of such paranoia.

However, when the door finally opened, you were not met with the visage of the postman.

Instead, a man with dark clothes and dark hair smiled, his lithe fingers held before you. He was offering to help you down from the carriage. You recognized him, but couldn’t place the memory surrounding him, “A pleasure to see you, Miss _____.”

You took his hand, your gaze torn from him as you stepped down to the gravel path. However, you quickly returned your attention to him as he bowed.

“My name is Sebastian Michaelis, I serve as Earl Phantomhive’s butler. I hope your trip here was pleasant.”

“It was, thank you,” You looked him up and down briefly, still trying to figure out how you knew him.

“Come, I’ll take you inside,” He continued alongside you, his hand still gently curved beneath yours.

You lifted your skirts a bit to prevent tripping while ascending the stairs. The manor was more and more breathtaking with every step closer. It towered over you, intimidating and awe inspiring all at once. The doors were much taller than you, but the butler swung one open with ease. You stepped in before him, distracted by the beauty of the manor’s interior. You had seen such things in drawings and pictures, the details depicted in books talking about the life of the wealthy, but you had never seen such marvels in architecture and design with your own eyes.

The soft click of the door closing behind you drew your focus back to butler. It was customary to wait for the nobility to arrive in some small room. Since you were a new guest, you knew it was more likely that you would have to wait at the front entrance. Such things always made you feel awkward. There were instances of the higher members of the middle class adopting such tendencies, becoming angry should you shift your weight or even appear to be bored. You didn’t know whether the butler would stay with you or go to get the head of the household.

You went to lift your hand from his, knowing you would have to wait, only for his grip to tighten softly.

He pulled you toward one of the hallways, offering another smile, “It would be rude to keep a lady waiting at the front door. There is a drawing room much more suited to providing you company.”

“Ah, thank you,” You followed alongside him. You didn’t have the same ties to nobility that he did, but you knew that this was out of the ordinary, “So, Michaelis…”

“Please, you can call me Sebastian.”

“Of course,” You spared a glance away, adding yet another unconventionality on the list, “Sebastian,” You said it quietly, as if you were testing the name’s taste and feeling.

“Yes?” He looked at you, the corners of his mouth curling into that of amusement.

You arched a brow, “I was complying with your request. I wasn’t asking for anything.”

His grin widened ever so slightly. He hummed in response, opening yet another door. Even the drawing room was immaculate. There had to be a large number of staff keeping everything clean and dusted. You couldn’t imagine what the Earl’s private chambers looked like.

Your hand left Sebastian’s as you wandered further into the room, amazed by the different textures and patterns of the fabric. Everything seemed to be imported from exotic places while still maintaining the traditional look of an English home. You sat down in one of the chairs, immediately noticing the difference in firmness in comparison to your chairs at home. Your cushions had a rougher material, but they were much more comfortable. You weren’t sure how noble sat on such furniture for extended periods of time without getting sore.

Instead of leaving the room and getting his master, Sebastian sat down in the chair across from you. He fluidly crossed one leg over the other. It seemed he was the embodiment of grace. He leaned toward the metal tray sitting on the side table, pouring two cups of tea. He lifted one of the cups and saucers, taking a languid sip. His dark gaze never left yours as he lowered the cup, “You’re welcome to have some. I wasn’t sure of your preference, so I made some tea with a moderate fragrance.”

You glanced at the tea, but didn’t take it, “Is the Earl not joining us?” It was a rude gesture to refuse the drink offered to you, but your work in medicine made you suspicious of such things. Food and drink offered in any situation was an invitation for poison. It was even worse to outright ignore the offer, but Sebastian’s actions had not exactly followed protocol, either.

“He’s with one of his teachers at the moment, so I will ask you questions in his stead.”

You looked at him, clasping your hands in your lap, “So, these questions, then?”

“I understand that you’re an apothecary.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then you must deal with all sorts of medications.”

“I wouldn’t refer to it as all sorts,” You replied, “There is limited access to certain compounds. The only way to obtain such things outside of the usual companies would be to purchase them illegally, which I haven’t done.”

“You’re not here in regard to your own actions, Miss _____. You were invited here to provide some information.”

“Then ask.”

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the increase in narcotic drug smuggling into London. I’m wondering if you know anything about it.”

“I don’t work with such materials. Such things are strictly monitored. It’s illegal to possess such chemicals without the proper authorization. But you already knew that. If I did have access to such things, selling it to my patients could easily have me arrested. Using it myself would make me unsuitable for this conversation. An Earl like your master would undoubtedly have better sources when it comes to illegal contraband, and sending me as a spy would be disadvantageous for everyone,” You tilted your head to the side, “Which means that you didn’t call me for a consult on a drug investigation.”

Sebastian set down the cup and saucer, letting a silence drift between you. He smiled, “You’re quite astute, Miss _____. Forgive me for the ruse, but I did call you here with a purpose in mind. We’ve met before, a few days ago.”

You leaned back slightly in your chair. You remembered him now. He was the man who had fawned over the stray cats, “I remember. What of it?”

“It’s not often that I meet someone with an affinity for cats. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

“Well, curiosity killed the cat,” You replied coolly.

His red gaze lingered on you, “I have a proposition for you.”

“You’ve lured me here under false pretenses and you want to offer me something?”

“Are you refusing?”

“No,” You grinned, “You’ve stimulated my own curiosity, actually. I’ve never been involved in a scheme before. I just want to know what you have planned before I agree to anything.”

He smirked, “And what if I would only tell you the circumstances if you agreed to them beforehand?”

“I would say that you were driving a hard bargain and refuse. But since you brought the idea up, I doubt you’ll use such a tactic now.”

He pulled a small, folded piece of paper from his suit jacket, holding it out to you.

You took it, examining the wax seal. It wasn’t the Phantomhive crest.

“One of my young master’s associates is hosting a ball at his private estate. I’m offering you an invitation.”

You hesitated. Invitations weren’t given out randomly. There was no way that the paper had your name as the recipient.

“Officially, you’ll be a guest of my master. In truth, you are my guest.”

“Won’t the Earl-“

“My young master rarely invites anyone of his own accord. The invitation won’t be missed.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out his intentions. Your only reason to refuse had been pulled out from under your feet. Your concern was that you would be caught and thrown out, ruining your reputation amongst the elite. Still, you doubted any of them knew your name. You couldn’t deny that Sebastian was attractive and the idea of attending such an extravagant festivity with him would be an opportunity to die for, it seemed too good to be true. You weren’t sure how to take the request, so you responded the only way you knew how; by turning the situation away from you, “Is all of this so you can come visit me and the stray cats? The Earl said that he was allergic, so you can’t keep them within the mansion. Being friendly to me would give you access to nearly every stray cat in the area.”

Sebastian exhaled, a smile tugging at his lips once more, “That is a reason very low on my list, but I freely admit to it.”

“What is your main intention, then?”

“I’d like to spend an evening dancing with a beautiful woman.”

You looked to the windows, seeing the gardens sprawling into the distance beyond the glass. It was a diversion, of course. You were determined not to show any sign that Sebastian’s words were having an impact on you. It seemed to be his goal, considering all of his compliments, “I accept, then. Though, should you have any other invitations, you don’t have to bring me here. You can come to my shop by yourself. Unless your young master demands too much of your time.”

“My goal is to serve him, Miss _____. No amount of my time and energy is considered too much,” His gaze shifted into something darker, “Though, I’ll always save some of my time and energy for you.”

Ah, so he was playing a game. He wanted to see you lose your composure. The competition had begun. You refused to be done in by sweet words and affectionate glances. You got up from your chair, “I should go,” You began, “I have to get back to my shop. I’m sure your master has work for you, as well.”

The butler stood, graceful as ever, “Of course. I won’t keep you from your craft,” He offered his hand once more.

You took it, finding the gesture endearing. You walked with him back to the carriage, his hand granting you stability as you climbed inside.

Rather than immediately shutting the door, Sebastian used the step to lean into the carriage, “Tell me, Miss _____. Curiosity killed the cat, but do you know what it brought it back?”

You thought it over for a brief moment, then shook your head. The phrase was common, but the second half had fallen out of circulation, “No, I don’t know.”

“Satisfaction.”

Your eyes widened. Something in his voice had shifted, becoming slower and darker. It reminded you of chocolate; smooth and sweet and luring you to take but a taste. A single word had ignited a fire beneath your skin.

He withdrew, his tone once again professional, “It was a pleasure seeing you, Miss _____. Have a good evening.”

“You, as well,” You replied, tearing yourself away from looking at him. He closed the door, leaving you in the carriage alone. You immediately sighed, annoyed with yourself. After all of your persistence that his charm wouldn’t impact you, one word had made your composure slip.

It did, however, make you interested in what was to come from the butler.

Perhaps you could play the same trick on him.


End file.
